


flames

by greedlings



Series: badthingshappenbingo [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, both pre and post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedlings/pseuds/greedlings
Summary: Anwen's past has haunted her in her sleep for as long as she can remember.
Series: badthingshappenbingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643200
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	flames

**Author's Note:**

> more orig!
> 
> this is a prompt fill for my badthingshappen bingo card! my friend suggested 'nightmares' with my oc anwen and wow it was nice to finally get back to writing her after so long! 
> 
> the first part is probably like. just pre canon. the second part is post canon.
> 
> if you'd like to req an angsty fic of your own, you can find my bingo card on my twitter @/greedlings_

_He was standing over her, a sick grin on his face and the fires of burning rage deep behind his irises. There was a knife in his hand, hovering over her chest. He was crying. That was_ still _the part that she couldn’t understand; how did those sad, lonely tears survive in the blazing heat radiating through the room?_

 _Then, little Anwen opened her eyes, and Anwen was snapped into her body from her position over the scene. She felt the panic in her chest, felt her fight the scream that rose in her throat. The words_ what are you doing, father? _left her lips, barely audible against the crackling of the fire._

It had to be done, my little ember. _It was exactly how it always happened, though Anwen couldn’t be sure if that’s what he had actually said anymore. She’d had this dream so many times._

Where’s mother? _The panic rose in Anwen’s chest, and her voice trembled as she spoke._

 _The tears flowed faster from her father's eyes as the rage in his eyes burned too hot to bear,_ She’s asleep, dear. Yes… asleep.

_Anwen may have been a child, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew what that meant._

The fire burns bright, _her father continued, his voice rising into a yell as he did so,_ and she tried to snuff it out. 

_He threw down the knife, and it clattered against the floor. He lifted his head, and the flickering shadow the flames cast over his face was evil._

Show it to me.

 _Anwen didn’t need to ask for clarification. She wondered as she sat up and slid her shirt off how he had learned about her cursed birthmark; she had been so_ careful _, and yet here Anwen was. Her mother couldn’t protect her anymore, either. She was at the mercy of her father._

_She turned her back to her father, showing him the marks she had spent so long hiding from him. His fingers traced them, and Anwen felt her skin burn under the heat._

_It hurt. Anwen screamed._

Anwen screamed, bolting upright in her bed. The markings on her back--that _damned_ birthmark that swirled and curled like flames across her skin--burned where she knew her father had traced them. The pain was exactly like it had been that night, even though so many years had passed.

Her father was dead. He shouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore, and yet…

She forced herself to lay back down, to close her eyes, to hold back the tears that threatened to break her stoic persona, even though there was no one around to see them fall.

Anwen barely slept that night, and what little sleep she got was haunted by visions of flames enveloping her screaming father.

*****

_It was the same as always. The small form of the girl Anwen used to be woke up with her father hanging over her, unsure whether to kill his daughter or let her live. It played through her mind just like it had so many times. Her father's face had become more twisted, and the heat radiating through the walls stronger, but it was always the same dream._

_But it had been so long since she had this awful dream. Why now?_

_She felt her father’s fingers on her back, tracing the flames that burned on her back. Anwen screamed. It was the same as always._

_But this time, she didn’t wake up._

_Instead, her father laughed. It was gentle, almost sweet, but there was still anger behind the sound. Anwen felt him pull his hand away from her back and slowly move around the bed where Anwen sat._

_She should have woken up at that point. She shouldn’t be dreaming still; this was when she had passed out and her memory had faded. She had never seen her father move into her vision, slow and calculated, each step taking so much longer than it should have. She had never seen her father bend down, his face so close to Anwen’s that his features were blurred--though Anwen could still see, clear as day, the same sickening grin on her father's lips._

You killed with this power.

_Anwen froze._

_How did he know?_

_The flames began to creep closer, though never coming close enough to burn Anwen or her father. He moved in front of Anwen, his face so twisted with malice and pride and grief that even Anwen could barely recognize him._

You’re just like me.

_Anwen screamed again._

She woke with a start, though her limbs were frozen in place. Her breath was rapid, and her head spun like never before.

 _You’re just like me._ The words danced through her mind over and over; it was a taunt, a threat…

It was her biggest fear.

She had killed people. She had used her curse to kill, just like her father and his father and his grandfather. She had used her flames to snuff out other lives.

Anwen’s door creaked, snapping her out of her thoughts for just a moment. There was Adler, concern laced through his brow. “Anwen, are you-”

She broke down before he had the time to finish.

Anwen had no idea how long she sat in Adler’s arms, sobbing into his chest. It felt like so long, and yet like no time had passed in the same breath. But he was warm, and steady, and the only person she trusted to see her like this. 

Adler didn’t ask any questions. Anwen could always count on that, that Adler would never pry. Even once she was calmed down enough that the tears dried from her eyes, he simply sat beside Anwen, resting his arm on her shoulder and holding her close.

There was silence for a moment—not an awkward, suffocating quiet, but a calm silence that seemed to seep into Anwen’s bones, letting her relax from the inside out. When Anwen finished composing herself, she turned her head upwards to face Adler. 

“Do you… do you think I’m a monster?”

“What?” Adler furrowed his brows, “Of course not! What would make you think…” he must have seen the tears once again welling up in Anwen’s eyes as he trailed off. “Oh.”

“It was different this time.” Anwen had never had to fight so hard to hold back her tears before. She felt anger rise in her chest, but it was laced so heavily with hatred and sadness and apprehension that she wasn’t sure if she could even _call_ it anger. “There was more. He… he told me that I was just like him, that I used my stupid powers to kill and that-”

Adler shook his head, “Gods, Anwen, you have nothing to worry about. You’re nothing like him.”

“But I-”

“Anwen. Did your dad ever worry about saving the world?”

Anwen paused, “Well, no, but-”

“Did he ever risk his life to save his friends?”

Anwen laughed at this, “He didn’t _have_ any friends.”

Adler chuckled, “There’s another difference. Did he ever-”

“Risk his life for _anyone_? No. He was a coward.”

“Well, you're definitely not a coward. No matter what your memories or your nightmares want you to think, you are _nothing_ like your father.”

There was silence again, and Anwen smiled.

“He’s also dead. I suppose that’s a difference between us.”

Slowly, Adler began to chuckle, and in no time both he and Anwen were laughing so hard that tears streamed down their cheeks.

Anwen couldn’t remember the last time she felt this happy. That she felt this _safe_.

“Thank you, Adler,” Anwen said softly once their laughing had ceased.

Adler cocked his head, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “It’s been a while since you’ve thanked _anyone_ for something.”

“Shut up.” Anwen punched him lightly on the shoulder, and he forced himself back as if it had been strong enough to push him away.

“Ow,” Adler groaned, false pain and sarcasm laced through his tone, “how could you _do_ that? Oh, _gods_ , my _arm_.” At that, he clutched where Anwen had made contact, rolling onto his back on Anwen’s mattress.

Anwen rolled her eyes, then pushed herself back to her pillows, “Are you having fun?”

Adler sighed sharply and sat up, an exaggerated pout on his face, “you won’t even _fake_ sympathy?”

“You’re a really bad actor,” Anwen shot back.

They laughed together again. It was nice, Anwen realized, to let herself be vulnerable. Even if it was only for Adler. 

That was another difference between her and her father, though it _had_ taken her much too long to learn it. 

Adler stayed by her side as she fell back asleep, his head resting against her chest and his arm draped gently over her torso. He was so warm, and yet, even though the heat of her father’s fire had haunted her for too many years, this warmth was soft and comforting. This warmth felt like home.

Anwen had never felt as safe as she did at that moment, and she couldn’t help but smile as she drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated <3<3<3
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr @/greecllings and on twitter @/greedlings_


End file.
